


A Happy New World

by Bralarotica



Series: The New World Of Pleasure [3]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Angst and Drama, Angst and Feels, Anxiety, Bad Flirting, Big Breasts, Bonding over books, Breast Worship, But Viola's Breasts Were Ridiculously Big, Cunnilingus, Drama, Dressrosa (One Piece), Emotional Manipulation, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/F, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Falling In Love, Female Homosexuality, First Kiss, First Love, Flirting, Happy-Harpy Pun, Hate to Love, Heavy Angst, Homoeroticism, Horny Monet, Huge Breasts, Human-Limbs Monet, Humiliation, Introspection, Kissing, Large Breasts, Lesbian Sex, Lies, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, Making Out, Manipulation, One Piece Women Have Big Breasts In General, Pervy Monet, Pre-Dressrosa, Psychological Trauma, Self-Hatred, Smut, Trauma, Tribadism, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28240554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bralarotica/pseuds/Bralarotica
Summary: Viola is the last member of the royal family living in the palace, after Dressrosa found its new king, Donquixote Doflamingo. Being forced to be a part of his family, Viola is alone and full of hatred. So when she tried to find peace in the Palace's library, she finds the flirtatious and irritating Monet instead. But in Dressrosa, the country of love and passion, the heart wants what the heart wants, and even Viola has to face her true feelings...
Relationships: Monet/Viola (One Piece), Monet/Violet (One Piece)
Series: The New World Of Pleasure [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2124198
Kudos: 9





	A Happy New World

Viola looked from the window down to the court. The officers of the Donquixote Family celebrated once more. Loud, rude, and disgusting.  
Bloodthirsty pirates who acted as if the palace belonged to them.  
And once more, Viola had to remind herself, that this palace, and the whole kingdom belonged to them. For years by now.  
Maybe the reality was too gruesome to accept. Letting it paint over her wholesome image of a home and true family. And of a good king.  
Or she would give up entirely, if she accepted this as her new world. Leaving the past in the dust and dirt of her childhood, and embracing the life of a pirate.  
She punched against the window, before she pushed her forehead against the cold glass. Tears were dropping from her eyes while she bit her lips.  
She stood alone in the darkened corridor. All the servants who had worked under her father were gone over the years. These days everyone in this place was only loyal to Doflamingo and his officers.  
No father who would hold her, no older sister who would hug her.  
And beyond this cold surface her head was leaning against, was this party, bright and warm and full of laughter.  
If they knew that she stood behind the window looking at them or not, it didn't matter. They mocked her and it ripped her heart apart.  
So she turned away, finding a place which soothes her mind a bit.  
She didn’t wander long through the corridors of the palace to find a fitting place:  
The Library.  
It didn’t shock her that the Donquixote Family avoided this place. None of them seemed into literature, so they had no reason to search for this place. At least, not if they can enjoy another one of their luxurious parties.  
Viola took one of the candles, prepared for visitors, and kindled it. Together with a light source she chose the first table she could find and sat down, taking a few moments to calm her mind.  
She hadn’t intended to read books, but maybe she should plan this for the future. Having this place all for herself did sound good.  
Then she felt a pair of hands on both of her breasts, and a female voice whispering into her ear: “The princess’ treasures are as magnificent as ever, I see.”  
Shocked, Viola turned and looked into a pair of amber eyes, crowned by a pair of thick glasses and a green mane.  
“Monet,” Viola shrieked and one of Monet’s fingers pressed against her lips.  
“Be still, princess ” Monet whispered again. “Don’t you know to be quiet in a library?”  
Viola clenched her teeth. Not only being reprimanded by one of the Donquixote Family, it was Monet of all people. But her attention was distracted by another detail: One of Monet’s hands was still squeezing her breast.  
“What are you, some lusty old man?!”  
Both hands of the green haired woman covered her mouth, while her cheeks turned red. “How rude, princess! I just couldn’t resist your overwhelming beauty!”  
Viola spit to the side. “Spare me your words, they’re like poison in my ears.” With narrowed eyes she looked at the green haired woman. “Why are you here, anyway?”  
Monet pushed her glasses down to her eyes and then pointed at them. Not saying anything.  
Viola blinked for a few seconds, not sure how serious she was. “You hide yourself here, instead of joining the party in the court?”  
Monet made a few steps, sat on the table, and pushed her knee against her chest. “Well, some have fun screaming and drinking. I prefer it more intimate.” She pushed her glasses up again, looking with her amber eyes at Viola. “But why are you here, princess? Hiding, too?”  
“I don’t hide,” Viola replied and crossed her arms, raising her chin.  
“I’m sure you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t have chosen specifically ‘hiding’ as a word previously.”  
Viola frowned. Then the next moment she raised up, pushing the chair loudly. “I don’t need to share my thoughts with any of you! And most of all, not you!” She could feel how her heart pumped her hot blood through her body, an old rage awakening. It  
was a rage meant for the whole family, but facing off Monet was a good way to find a target for it for once. “You’re a dirty traitor who backstabbed me and my whole family to Doflamingo! I’ll never forget that!”  
Monet stayed calm, looking at Viola with her eyes, searching for something. Then she looked around. “I suppose we’re the only ones here, anyway. No need to be quiet, I guess.”  
Viola clenched her fists. Seeing Monet so serene despite her words was insulting. As if her past deeds meant nothing to her. But they meant everything for Viola, and she felt how her eyes started to burn again, new tears coming.  
But she didn’t want to show any weakness in front of any of the Donquixote Family. The least of all Monet. So she started to leave, not wanting to waste any more moments with that monster.  
But she was stopped.  
Monet grabbed her by the shoulders, looked for a moment into her eyes, and then pressed Viola against her own shoulder.  
“It’s fine,” she said.  
Viola almost laughed at these words. “What are you talking about.”  
She felt how a hand of Monet rubbed her back.  
“Just cry, princess,” Monet whispered.  
“I don’t cry!” Viola stuttered, betraying her own words.  
“Hate me if you want to,” Monet continued, “But we’re family now, and even if we have to hate each other, no one should be alone.”  
“I hate you,” Viola managed to get the words out, while her tears did indeed flow. “I hate you all.” She pressed her face against the shoulder of the green haired woman, hiding her face not just from this traitor, but also from herself.  
All her feelings ran amok, and she had to grab Monet’s back, because her knees gave out. Both of them slid down to the ground, while Monet kept on rubbing her back and started humming.  
It was just unfair. Viola had no one to go to but these despicable people. She wasn’t even allowed to be strong and keep her feelings to herself.  
This made her crying even worse, opening the gates of years of unspeakable thoughts and suppressed emotions.  
The world was drowned in her tears and only her weeping filled the ever present silence. Her weeping and Monet’s humming.  
Viola couldn’t tell how long this lasted.  
Everytime she felt she was at the end of her tears, a new flood arrived and she continued to be the weak princess whose whole family was destroyed. Mourning for a world that was gone and meant everything to her.  
But nothing lasts forever. Not the Dressrosa of her childhood, nor the tears.  
Eventually she calmed down, having reached a point where she felt hollow. She was another officer in the ranks of the Donquixote Family, sitting on the ground of the library. Held by Monet.  
“Feeling better?” the green haired woman asked.  
Viola thought for a few moments, before she replied, “Yes.”  
She stood up, not looking into the eyes of the other woman, turning her back on Monet and said, “I don’t want to see you ever again.” Then she did turn her head one last time to her and added the words, “I hate you the most.”

That night Viola felt hollow, when she laid in her bed.  
Normally she used the safety of her room to imagine the worst things to happen to the Donquixote Family. How she somehow made them, especially Doflamingo, pay for their crimes.  
But tonight she was too tired to indulge her fantasies. The idea itself suddenly felt decadent, almost even childish.  
She was all alone in her bed, not having the strength to distract herself.  
And she realized how lonely she really was and how cold the nights were.  
She grabbed her blanket tighter on her body and curled herself up underneath it.  
She began to realize how lonely she had truly been over the years. That this was the world she had to live with.  
Viola, haunted by this revelation, embraced the dreamless sleep which came for her. For at least she would be in a place far away from this one.

Viola stepped through the bookshelves on quiet feet. Her finger moved down the backs of the books, searching for a title worthy of her attention.  
Having found the idyllic peace of the library, she decided to take this opportunity to find refuge in the books there. Many of those, maybe even all of them, were left behind from the time when her family still ruled over Dressrosa. She had read a few books as a child, so she was sure to find a way to return to the memories of better times.  
The books themselves felt like the reaching hands of her past family, offering solace in her trying times. Indeed, the climate in this place was so different than any other place in the palace.  
But nonetheless, the library was also a part of the new Dressrosa. She knew it, and understood it even better when she felt a pair of familiar hands on her hips.  
She wasn’t surprised or shocked this time. Just disappointed.  
She looked at the face of Monet, who leaned her head on her shoulder this time, and greeted her, “Hello, princess.”  
“Monet,” replied Viola. She fought the urge down to take a book and use it to club the green-haired woman. But she didn’t want to damage the books. “Here again?”  
“Always.” Monet smiled, still leaning on her shoulder. “I’ve missed you.”  
“I didn’t,” Viola replied and looked down to the hands of Monet, which moved slowly up, being all touchy. “Is something wrong with you?”  
“Of course, princess.” Monet’s voice turned more sorrowful. “The person who owns my heart is so cold to me.”  
Viola felt likethe victim of a bad joke. “You’re a horrible jokester, Monet.”  
“But I am genuine, princess”, Monet pressed herself tighter against Viola, her hands reaching her breasts. “I love you.”  
Viola wanted to spit into Monet’s face for daring to say these words. But she controlled herself, not to fall too low. Instead she took the grabbing hands of the green-haired woman and took a step away from her. “Don’t insult either of us and let this prank go.”  
“Please, princess,” Monet made a serious face and clasped her hand in front of her big chest. “Hate me as much as you want, as long it makes you happy, I am fine with that. But accept my love, for it is as genuine as your hatred.”  
Viola laughed. She didn’t want to, but this joke was so pitiful, she couldn’t do anything else but laugh. One of her eyebrows rose up, while her mouth formed a smile, when she asked, “After you’ve betrayed my family, I should take this seriously?”  
“That happened years ago,” Monet replied and looked around. “Following you over the years with my eyes, I couldn’t do anything else but fall in love with you. But let us talk this out at a table, make ourselves comfortable.”  
Viola didn’t come here for Monet originally, but her pitiful attempts of a prank did amuse her after all. So she gave in and sat together with the green-haired woman at the next table they could find.  
The first thing she caught was the gaze of Monet, which was following her own big breasts. She sighed immediately. “You won’t convince anyone of your so-called love, when all you do is act like a horny teenager.”  
Monet smiled and leaned her head on her arms. “Princess, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” She hugged her own body in the next moment. “Just to sit here with you makes me just giddy. Thank you for sharing this moment.”  
Viola laughed again. Monet was such a bad actress, it was almost infuriating. Exaggerated and overdramatic. But if Monet wanted to keep up this charade, it gave Viola a chance for something she hadn’t experienced in quite a while: Having someone on her eye level, even if it was just about mockery.  
“I feel honored,” Viola stated bluntly, “but doesn’t your heart break knowing I hate you?”  
Monet stretched her hand towards her, but she didn’t take it of course. “Not in the least, princess,” she replied. “In fact, in hatred, you’ll show me the most honest and genuine you, something I am grateful for.”  
“You’re talking nonsense. Two people in true love and trust show their true selves. Hatred only breeds the ugliest emotions in all of us.”  
Monet smiled and looked at Viola with dreamy eyes. “But even your ugliest emotions are the most beautiful, princess.” She held her hand over her chest, above the place her heart was. “If you hate someone, then you won’t care what they think about you. Unlike in love, where you don’t want to hurt the other, not wanting to lose their trust after all.” She reached for Viola’s hand and squeezed it softly. “And you’ve said you hate me the most, so your truest emotions are only meant for me then, aren't they?”  
Viola pulled her hand back. Suddenly all her amusement from before was gone, like smoke blown away by wind. An uncomfortable feeling crawled up her spine and she didn’t want any more of this.  
“I won’t show you anything,” hissed Viola.  
Monet kept smiling and stood up. “I see. But then let me show you something, princess.” She bowed down to her and curiosity sparked inside Viola’s chest.  
A faint smile danced on Monet’s face for a moment, then she pressed her lips on Viola’s.  
The former princess jumped up from her chair. “What was that?”  
Monet winked at her. “My first kiss, of course.”  
Viola pointed at the exit of the library and screamed, “Get out, NOW!”  
To her surprise Monet did leave.  
Viola felt like a fool. She was the joke all along.  
She resumed the original reason why she was here and got herself a book she wanted to read. But no matter how many pages she turned over, her eyes couldn’t concentrate on what was printed on them.  
She clenched her teeth and only felt rage inside her chest, about the world, about Monet, and about herself.

Days passed, and when she entered the library the next time, she looked for Monet at first. She found her sitting at a table between the bookshelves waving at her.  
She was indeed always here.  
Viola thought for a few moments before she decided that, after choosing a book, she'd join Monet.  
She didn’t intend to chat with her again. But the last two times, Monet had grabbed her and this time she wanted to prevent anything like that from happening. She kept her in her view.  
Monet didn’t start any conversation. She read the books she had chosen and hid her eyes behind the thick glasses she wore all the time.  
But Viola had the feeling that everytime she looked at Monet, the green-haired woman was looking at her. A faint smile on her lips.  
This time Viola’s mind was much calmer and she lost herself in the story of heroes and villains. Simple fantasy of a better world.  
But then she stopped. The young hero kissed his lover, a princess who had been imprisoned and alone for years.  
Viola didn’t realize at first, but her fingertips rubbed over her lips, and she swallowed.  
Suddenly she remembered that outrageous moment a few days ago. She felt like a child, that she bothered to think about this at this moment.  
Yet, she couldn’t throw away the thoughts which plagued her mind. She coughed and when Monet lifted her head a little, Viola asked, “Did you never have a lover before?”  
“Excuse me, princess?” Monet pushed her glasses up.  
“You’d… you’d said the kiss you gave me… was your first,” stuttered Viola who felt so dumb at this moment that she had to say this.  
Monet smiled at her. “You know what they say, save your first time for someone special.”  
Viola didn’t say anything and put effort in reading her book again. But her mind played a trick on her and made her eyes wander up to Monet. To her smiling lips. 

Days passed and Viola visited the library again.  
It had become her safe haven in this strange Dressrosa.  
A safe and peaceful place, free of all the hatred she had storming in her heart when she had to face any member of the Donquixote Family.  
Admittedly, Monet was a stain in this small paradise, but Viola wouldn’t allow her to scare her away. Which was easier than expected, because Monet’s uncomfortable nature was rarely shown, for the green-haired woman also spent most of the time reading books.  
Like on this day.  
Both ladies sat at their table, losing themselves in the stories they held in their hands.  
Silence filled the air around them and Viola couldn’t wish for anything else. It was comfortable and somehow warmer than the blanket she had in her bed. A soft veil of peace.  
Which was disrupted when Monet stood up and looked over her shoulder down at the book.  
“Do you want something?” Viola asked with clenched teeth.  
“No,” Monet said, “I just want to read what you read.”  
“You can have the book, you know?”  
“No, no,” Monet shook her head, “Keep reading. I like it this way.”  
Viola felt the urge again to throw the book against Monet, but she was enjoying it too much to harm it at this point, so she sighed. “Fine. But no inappropriate touching.”  
Viola could see, out of the corner of her eyes, Monet smiling.  
“Of course not, princess.”  
For the rest of the day, she didn’t touch her in any way. Just standing next to her, reading the book over Viola’s shoulder.  
It made the former princess feel uncomfortable, because that couldn’t be pleasant.  
But Monet didn’t say anything. She didn’t move away.  
Just standing behind her, reading together with Viola.

When Viola visited the library the next time, she decided to return the favor, and to read the book Monet was reading.  
She stood directly behind her, reading over her shoulders, and Monet didn’t say anything. She just held the book higher, so Viola could read better.  
Viola started the book somewhere after the first quarter. She didn’t understand the plot and characters at first, and needed time to acclimate herself. She asked herself if Monet only did this the last time to irritate her and even wanted her to do this herself to make fun of her.  
But it didn’t take too long and Viola began to get a feeling for this book. A book of intrigue and mysteries. Of questions, which hid more questions.  
After a while, though, she had to take a break. Reading this way was most uncomfortable and just not fun. Not for her at least. Monet did giggle and she could tell the joke was on her again.  
“If you want to read more,” Monet pointed at her lap, “Just sit here.”  
Viola rolled her eyes and pushed her chair next to Monet’s, sitting next to her.  
She didn’t say anything to her on this day. Just sitting in silence, enjoying a book, and slowly falling into a strange, new world. 

Next time Viola couldn’t find Monet and surprised herself when she was looking for her. Of course, only because she didn’t want her to feel her up all of a sudden again.  
So she decided to take a stroll through the book shelves, looking for the next book she may read this day.  
She stood still when she found books written by the same author who had written the book she had read together with Monet previously. She played with the idea to read more of their work, for she had never experienced this kind of genre. So different to the books she was reading from her younger days.  
She may hate Monet, but to stretch this hate to the author and their work was childish. So her fingers moved up and down the book titles, searching for one that may catch her eyes.  
But she didn’t know what to expect. What did she want? What may satisfy her taste, her curiosity?  
She didn’t need to plague herself with these questions too long, because a pair of hands embraced her from behind, with the head of a green-haired woman appearing next to hers.  
“Did you miss me, princess?” Monet asked.  
“Neither you,” Viola lowered her eyes to look down at the hands which rested on her large chest. “Nor your hands.”  
Monet giggled and her hands moved further down, on top of Viola’s belly.  
She didn’t like this either, but it was an improvement.  
“What are we going to read today?” Monet asked, looking up at the books in front of her.  
“What are ‘we’ going to read today?” Viola repeated the question. “Choose your own book, I am still looking.”  
One of Monet’s hands took Viola’s hand and led it to one of the other books by the author. “This one is good. You’re going to like it.”  
Viola felt insulted at the idea that Monet would know what she would like. “What makes you think I might enjoy something you like?”  
“You hate me,” Monet whispered and cuddled Viola from behind. “But I do love you, so I’d only recommend you something I believe you’d like. After all, I did see what books you have read before.”  
Viola wanted to decline on principle. Accepting anything from her was wrong, she knew.  
But she did enjoy the other book from the author, and punishing their work would be unfair, ignoring it out of pettiness. So she didn’t say anything, and just took this book and started to read it at their table.  
Monet sitting at her side again, reading it, too. She acted like a child and Viola hadn’t the strength to reprimand her. Instead she dived into this story, freeing herself once more.  
It didn’t take her long to realize what kind of story it was:  
A story of two poor souls who weren’t meant to exist in the first place. And even less, to find each other. It was an unjust world, with no happy ending for these two. No silver line at the horizon. Just the momentary and fleeting happiness they could find in each other’s arms.  
It was a romance.  
And it ripped at Viola’s heart. She bit at the fingernails of one hand, feeling the distress of the characters. It was painful, but also tempting. On every page, she hoped for a twist which made the lives of both characters a better one.  
But instead things turned sour and bitter. Hardships followed hardships. And even the sweet breaks where these two had each other became rarer and rarer.  
She couldn’t tell when it happened, but Viola shed a few tears on the journey reading this book. It pained her what these two had to face, but all she was capable of was to tear up.  
She also couldn’t tell when Monet started to hold her hand. Somewhere when she began to cry in the middle, she assumed. When she felt the suffering of the protagonist too close to her heart. She wanted to push the hand away at first, but she needed this support, for this story just hurt her too much and she at least wanted to feel something warm and soft, reminding her of a better place.  
When they finished, no one said anything. Viola didn’t dare to look at Monet, feeling like a hypocrite and hating herself for what she allowed on this day.

Next time when they were at the library, they looked together for a new book. Monet holding Viola from behind, suggesting potential titles, musing what she usually read, what she enjoyed, what Viola might enjoy, too.  
Viola thought all this was distracting. She wanted to read something brighter again, something more uplifting. But she also was interested in this new world she had tasted from the book which had touched her heart. So she went with Monet’s direction.  
Not minding her hands on her body, her face against hers, when they’d read a new book together.  
Not minding Monet’s lips on hers, when she planted a kiss on her again at the end of the day.  
She did react angrily, but this time it didn’t come from a place deep within her. More a necessity to herself. A justification for her past self. Like a half-hearted promise to someone she hasn’t seen for a long time. 

The next time they saw each other in the library, Monet greeted her with a kiss.  
Viola scolded her, but her words no longer had any fire in them. Monet embraced her again with hands which caressed Viola’s large breasts. Viola could not even raise her voice in anger this time. She found this new heat, which started to boil in her, shockingly enchanting.  
Monet led her deeper into the library, wanting to show her another book they could read together. Always behind the next book shelf, while stealing one kiss after another from Viola.  
Viola tried to resist. Remind herself who she and Monet were. She looked at the green-haired woman, to bring up the feelings of hate she had felt not long ago.  
She pressed her lips on Monet’s, remembering the betrayal she commited. She ran her fingers through the green hair, playing with it, remembering how she had ruined her life. Feeling her body on hers, the sweet scent and intoxicating heat, while she recalled the suffering she had to endure for years.  
Indeed, her body began to burn again. Her blood was boiling.  
It was a sensation new to the world she had known until now.  
She found herself and Monet in a distant, hidden corner of the library, having lost all interest in the books.  
Monet kissed Viola’s neck passionately, who was leaning against a wall, holding onto the other woman. She had never felt so weak before and also never wanted something more than this.  
Her own hands slid down Monet’s body, touching the beautiful curves she had in front of her eyes all the time, but only realized in this moment how lovely they were.  
The heat Monet radiated through her clothes was alluring and she felt how her hands started to pull on those, wanting to feel more of this warmth.  
Monet’s kisses moved further down. Each one burned more intensely than the one before. One of her hands caressed one of Viola’s breasts. When her mouth reached Viola’s cleavage, she looked up to Viola, licking her lips. Then she pulled the dress down, exposing one of her breasts.  
“So big,” Monet praised her body, “Truly worthy of being royal blood.” She licked the nipple next, making it hard. Viola inhaled deeply. Then Monet bit on the tip of the nipple playfully.  
Viola believed herself in a dream. Where was she? Who was she? Was she really doing this with a person who ruined her life? She, herself, must be part of a story, for she couldn’t believe what was happening.  
But then Monet opened her mouth, to suck on her breast, and forced a moan out of Viola’s mouth. And suddenly she realized, everything in her life before this one moment must’ve been some story, because this was the most real she ever felt.  
This was the only life she wanted.  
Somewhere, someone yelled in the distance, and it took both of them a moment to understand.  
“Shit,” hissed Monet and stood up. “Wait here, Viola, I’ll get rid whoever came.”  
Viola didn’t get a chance to reply. She sat against the wall, part of her chest exposed. She was breathing hard, her body still burning out of lust.  
Her mind collected itself, forming thoughts and comprehending what she was doing. What she dared to do to one who destroyed her family and kingdom.  
A warning voice deep within her head, behind a wall she had erected herself. A voice of reason. A voice of her past self. A voice saddened by what was done to her and her family.  
Monet returned soon and looked at Viola with a curious expression on her face. “Everything fine, princess?”  
Viola took a hand of hers and whispered, as if she didn’t want to hear her own words, “Let us go to your room, OK?”  
The voice inside her head objected and tried to convince her otherwise.  
But it was also a lonely voice, living in a cold place.  
But then Monet’s smile made Viola feel warm and wanted.

Viola was always aware of her chest size being bigger than the average woman. Finding a bra had been quite difficult. But the attention Monet gave them made her feel especially self conscious.  
They were heavy in her arms, yet still firm and round. Finding dresses she could wear with those wasn’t an easy task either. But she was naked in this moment, exposed entirely.  
Her breasts were heaving, for how excited and panicked she was. This was a new, unwritten page in her life. And she sat on the bed of another woman.  
Monet’s bed. Who stood in front of her, with eyes filled with lust.  
“Oh, Viola,” she spoke with a shaking voice and licked the corner of her lips. “This is it…”  
Viola released her breasts, which jiggled for a moment.  
Monet grabbed them softly, before pushing her face into them. “Breasts worthy of a queen. So grand, soft, and lovely.” She kissed them, licked them, and sucked at her nipples. Monet’s own breath was rapid and her mouth moved with pure hunger. Her fingers squeezed her, savouring Viola’s breasts.  
“Monet,” Viola moaned, and grabbed her lover’s head, caressing it.  
She was pushed onto the bed, Monet landing on her. Squeezing her head into the breasts, spending most of her attention on them. Her lips left kisses on every inch of skin, enveloping around the nipples, sucking on them softly, biting the hardened nipples.  
Viola’s body burned, winding in desire. She felt the sweet pleasure running through her, but she was unsatisfied and wanted more. She wanted to be touched more, deeper. She wanted her hunger to be stilled.  
“Monet,” she moaned once more, “Please.”  
Monet looked up at her, while she kept on kissing the massive breasts of Viola. The former princess wanted to plead again, but she felt one of Monet’s hands slide down her belly, reaching her vulva. She bit her lower lip in anticipation.  
First, one of her fingers moved around the lips, painting a circle around them, teasing Viola. She started to move her lower body up, impatient.  
Monet took her time, teasing and playing. Viola burned more and more, demanding to be touched, feeling pleasure. She pushed her hips against the hand, thirsty.  
Then, the finger entered into her vagina. It was precise and determined, touching spots inside her, making her moan.  
“You’re so tight, Viola,” Monet whispered, “You really are embracing the dirty finger of a pirate, aren’t you?”  
“Yes,” moaned Viola and she closed her eyes. Focussing on the pleasure. Hugging it, relaxing and letting it flow through her body. She grabbed the blanket underneath her, getting a better grip.  
Then, the next finger was pushed into her, and she suppressed a moan and bit her lips. Both fingers moved as one, pushing into her, shaking her body. She pushed her hips harder against them, wanting to feel them deeper inside her. They sparked a flame of pleasure again and again. She wanted more of this. Her body turned hotter, sweating; her breasts heaved more and more.  
Then she felt a third finger, but not inside her vagina. It rubbed at her clitoris and Viola blinked at Monet. She felt so close to the other woman, wanting her so close, never to let go. She caressed her green hair. She wanted to do and say so much in this moment, blinded by pleasure.  
Monet looked at her, still with hungry eyes. Her fingers moved skillfully. Pushing with the right strength, hitting the right spots. Pleasing and playing, pushing Viola further and further down. Rubbing the clitoris, making her moan louder and shake her body harder.  
“Monet,” Viola, unable to suppress her voice, started to scream. She felt how she came closer and closer to climax. Embracing the coming impact of the sweet pleasure.  
“Are you coming, Viola?” Monet asked.  
“Yes, yes, yes!” answered Viola between moans.  
“Do you want to come through this dirty pirate?” Monet asked further.  
“Yes, please, yes!”  
Monet licked her lips and stopped.  
Viola needed a moment to understand what happened, or better, what didn’t happen. She didn’t feel Monet’s fingers and pushed her hips into the air, wanting to be touched again.  
Meanwhile Monet took her own clothes off.  
“Monet?” Viola asked, confused.  
Monet revealed her own body in all its glory. A slim figure, big breasts, and beautiful pale skin. An erotic and irresistible figure, worthy of love and praise. Viola’s mouth began filling with drool, how delicious she looked. How had she never looked at her in that way before?  
“You want to come, right?” Monet asked again, looking at Viola intensely, while pushing Viola on her back.  
“Yes, please, Monet. Make me come!”  
“Then,” Monet moved closer to her, lifting her hips until she was above Viola's  
face. “Eat me out first.”  
“Monet?” Viola looked at the vulva of her lover, which was crowned by a green bush of pubic hair. An intense scent came from it.  
“I want to see who is dirtier: A pirate or a princess who whines to eat her out.” Monet’s tongue licked a corner of her lips. “Or do you not want to come after all?”  
“I do, Monet!” moaned Viola as she grabbed the hips of Monet, who started to sit down on her. For a moment she was overwhelmed by the pressure and weight, but after a few moments, she acclimated to it. Monet sat on her knees, which were at both sides of Viola’s head.  
She faced Monet’s vulva, which exuded a strong and bewitching scent. Rather carefully she stretched out her tongue, licking the surface area.  
Monet above her chuckled. “Don’t be such a coward, it won’t bite.”  
Viola licked again, this time pushing herself into it, and was greeted with a world of smell and taste. She closed her eyes, pushing her mouth against the vulva, pressing her lips on it, and stretching her tongue into it.  
Monet was so wet, Viola realized. Wet for her. She had caused all this intense smell and slickness. It made her hungry and her tongue moved irrationally. She had never done this, but she was hungry for all of this. So she sucked, licked, and kissed wherever she could. She followed her instincts. The thick heat on her mouth pushed her deeper into this. She could feel how Monet’s body embraced her tongue. Warm, hot, intense flesh against her.  
Viola lived for moment after moment. Pushing herself forward, blind for this new sensation.  
She heard Monet above her chuckling again, but this time filled with moans. “Good, good.” Monet looked down on her. Her eyes hungrier than ever, while she played with one of her breasts. “I’ve never done it with a royal. You’re better than expected, Viola.” She grabbed behind her with her other hand and Viola felt how she touched one of her own breasts. “You also have the greatest breasts I’ve ever had. Never want to let them go again. So juicy and big.”  
The praises of Monet reached Viola’s ears, but she couldn’t understand them. She knew she was praised and that was all what she needed to push herself harder. She raised her tongue, and pushed against the clitoris, licking at it, rubbing with her tongue’s tip, then sucked on it.  
“So very good,” Monet moaned and started to ride Viola’s face. “Maybe you never were meant to be a queen, but you're good for eating pussies, Viola. You were born for this, my dirty little princess.”  
Viola pushed her head against Monet’s own movement, pushing deeper with her tongue, licking and sucking where she could. She couldn’t think straight anymore. Her whole world was just this intense taste and scent. Then she felt Monet’s hand in her hair, moaning between faint laughter.  
“Enough, my dirty princess.” Monet raised up, relieving Viola of her weight. She lied on the bed, feeling hot all over her body. Her face was wet from all the juices and she licked herself absentmindedly.  
“Look at you, Viola,” said Monet, gazing on the former princess. “You’re no princess. You’re a bitch in heat.” She laid next to her, squeezing Viola’s big breasts. “And you’re all mine.”  
“Monet,” Viola just followed her body and pressed her lips against Monet's. She kissed her back, pushing her tongue into her mouth. Moans and heated breaths filled the air. Both women embraced each other, breasts against breasts. Fingers moved down, touching, promising pleasure. Monet bit Viola’s breasts, who only moaned “more, more” without any second thought.  
More kissing, saliva mixed with the intoxicating juices of Monet’s pussy. Their bodies rolled on the bed, sweaty and in greatest heat.  
Everything turned more and more into a fog and Viola began to lose herself more and more in this.  
At one point, she felt how pleasure bloomed deep inside her body, and she looked up. Monet pushed her pussy against her own, sitting straight, while she herself laid on the bed, pushing one of Viola’s legs up to find a better stance.  
Monet tribbed against her, with desire and hunger, and Viola pushed back, feeling the pleasure coming.  
Monet pushed hard against her, breathing heavily, and Viola was shaking. She fought against the drowning fog of her mind, to press harder against Monet, seeking the climax.  
Her entire body was tired and at its limits, but she urged herself further on. Racing against the exhaustion, hungry for more pleasure. She couldn’t move her body, but concentrated on the point where she and Monet connected with each other.  
It was a delicious feeling, making her heart go light. Every push by Monet sparked a new flower inside her. She moaned, clearly on the edge herself. Her green hair stuck on her upper body, her face all red, her eyes only filled with lust.  
Push for push, flesh pressed against flesh. Sparks of joy glowed up and burned down, urging for the final moment.  
Viola pushed herself to the brink, breathing hard. “Monet,” she moaned again and again, unable to say anything else at this point, “Monet.”  
Her eyes started to lose sight, she felt her mind breaking.  
She pushed herself once more.  
And another time.  
She could only feel her pussy, the great pleasure which dawned on her.  
Then the last push, breaking the last walls, and turning everything into sweet, blinding nothingness.  
Then she lost consciousness.

Quite some time later, Viola opened her eyes. She needed more time until her mind started to work again.  
Her body felt broken and dirty.  
She knew she had changed.  
She needed only to understand how.  
Then Viola understood that she wasn't in her own bed, not in her own room. She was covered in a blanket and beneath it she was completely naked.  
It was somebody else’s room, and nighttime. A burning candle behind her filled the room with a soft, orange light.  
She turned her head and saw Monet, who sat in the bed straight, with her glasses over her eyes, reading a book.  
“Oh?” Monet realized that she was awake. “Did the light wake you up, princess?”  
Viola turned back and murmured, “It’s fine.” She didn’t want to face her.  
She heard something behind her, Monet began to move and the light turned out. The green-haired woman kissed her on the cheek. “Good night, princess.”  
Then she cuddled her from behind. A warm body on hers.  
Viola bit her own lips, forcing herself not to speak the foolish words “I love you.”  
She realized something at that very moment.  
Back then, when she said to Monet that she hated her the most, she was actually lying.  
The person Viola hated the most was herself.


End file.
